Forthcoming Blessing
by GarvinMark
Summary: Fluffy bit about when his Majesty finds out he's going to be a father :D and what follows afterward...
1. Chapter 1

**Author Note**: Because I wanted to, honestly. That's why this is here. :D I just started writing it this morning, it's been rolling around my mind for months, and I just wanted to do it! :D so HA! :D and again I say HA! :D haha I promise I'll get back to the other stories, I just wanted to do this :D oh, and it's a oneshot... maybe... I'm putting it as complete anyway! :D hahahahaha... I need to get some breakfast, though now it would be lunchtime :D so, thanks for reading, waiting (impatiently or patiently, doesn't matter :D), faving, and reviewing! :D

P.S. :D I love doing accents :D

_Soli Deo Gloria_

**Disclaimer**: Disney owns Tangled, its characters, and its story

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><p>Catherine took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Then, because she was more worried than she had planned for, she took another deep breath.<p>

The queen of Corona opened her eyes, staring at the door to her husband's office. She had to calm herself down before entering. It was necessary to be calm, to be collected, to not freak out over the news she had just been given. After all, it was—it was wonderful news. Fantastic news. News that she had been waiting to hear for years. News that would change her life forever. News that would bring as much joy to the people of this kingdom as it had brought to her.

"Oh, _why_ couldn't Oliver wait to tell me about this?" Catherine sighed, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I just go to see him because I've been feeling bad all week. Normal checkup, all in routine, and then he—he has to go and tell me that… it's—it's wonderful and—and I'm happy but…" she sighed again and once more looked at the office door, whispering, "How on earth am I going to tell _him_? What will he think?"

The door did not answer, and the guard positioned beside it knew better than to respond. After all, it was not the first time a visitor came to the king's office without having an external discussion with himself, and it certainly would not be the last. The fact that it was the queen, however, _did_ make it all the more interesting.

"After all, he _is_ my husband." Catherine reasoned quietly. "He has a right to know. It's part his fault anyway, and—and—oh _balderdash_! Why am I so scared?"

She continued along this vein for several more minutes, torn between racing into the room screaming the news and bolting off in the opposite direction like a frightened rabbit.

Finally, the guard by the door cleared his throat, addressing his queen politely. "Excuse me, your Majesty?"

"Yes?" Catherine looked up at the formidable soldier.

He smiled slightly, "The king 'as an appointment within the next ten minutes. If you want to speak to 'im today without being glared at by the Duke of Florence, I would suggest you go in now. It is entirely h'up to you, of course, but-," he hesitated before adding encouragingly, "-whatever it is you 'ave to say to 'im, I'm sure 'e wants to 'ear about it."

"Are you sure?"

He nodded, "Yes ma'am. I've 'ad eight of 'em myself and it never gets old."

Catherine's expression of tense anxiety relaxed slightly, and she smiled at him. "You dear, dear man. I'll talk to him about giving you a pay raise."

The solider grinned, his face reddening, "Thank you, your Majesty, but you don't 'ave to-."

"What is your name?"

"Uh—Charles, ma'am."

"Expect a bonus in your paycheck, Charles." She declared firmly.

Charles dropped a quick bow, stammering, "Th-thank you, ma'am. Um, would you like me to get the door for you?"

The queen shook her head, turning back to the door, "No I—I can do that much."

"Okay. And, ah, congratulations, ma'am, on your forthcoming blessing."

"Thank you." She gave the soldier a nervous smile and set a trembling hand upon the door handle.

* * *

><p>The king of Corona did not look up from his desk when his door was opened. Nor did he leave off from the letter he was scripting when a pair of light footsteps he knew very well approached.<p>

In fact, he probably would not have spoken at all if his wife had not said his name.

"Tommy."

"Not now, dear. I need to finish this letter to Geoff. Apparently he's having trouble with the fainting goats again—blasted things are a nightmare to herd."

Catherine nodded silently, gazing at her husband.

Thomas had not changed much during the last several years of their marriage. Even after taking the throne two years in, the man was still as strong and healthy as ever. He still had the same handsome, dark brown hair and whiskers, reassuring blue eyes, and austere Roman nose. He even had that furrowed line which appeared upon his forehead during moments of stress or concentration. In fact, the only _true_ difference she could really point out was the medallion of Corona resting upon his chest. And that was a material difference, nothing more.

Listening to the quill scratching upon parchment, the queen experienced yet another internal struggle. Should she interrupt him? That would be rude… but _this_ was important! This was amazing! This was something he needed to hear, and he needed to hear it from her first of all. Meanwhile, the court physician was probably already having his apprentice draft up an official diagnosis. The number of people who knew would continue to grow nonstop. By the end of the day, everyone in the kingdom would have heard.

It would be quite a shame if the king had not.

Catherine tried to speak again, found she could not manage to get a word out, and instead set her hand over his right. The action prevented Thomas from writing any more, but it also alerted him to something that was more serious than fainting goats. He turned to his wife.

"Cat?"

"I-," she sighed weakly, not meeting his eyes, "-I have—have something to—to…" she faltered, unable to continue.

Immediately, Thomas started panicking. His wife had been ill all week. She had gone to see the court physician. Now she had returned and she did not look pleased with the result. What had happened? What could he do? What in the world had that idiotic doctor thought when he had scared Catherine into near-muteness? Oh, if he got his hands around that upstart intern's neck he would-.

Thomas's line of thinking instantly broke off when his wife sank down to her knees, still clutching his hand.

He turned around in his chair to face her, asking hastily, "Cat dear, what's the matter? What did he say? What's wrong?"

She was crying. Oh no—_no_… she was _crying_.

"_Cat_!" Thomas pleaded urgently. "Cat, please tell me what's wrong!"

His wife shook her head, wiping at her eyes, "I'm sorry, Tommy. I—I'm sorry. N-nothing's wrong. I'm fine, just-."

"You're not—you're not ill?" He choked, staring at her.

She shook her head, smiling, "No dear, I'm not ill."

Feeling immensely better, Thomas nodded, "So what—what happened? Why are you crying?"

"Honestly, I don't know why I'm bothering with that." Catherine muttered, still dabbing tears away. "Natural reaction, I guess."

"Reaction to what?"

"Well, to the pregnancy."

Thomas nearly fell out of his chair. "To the _what_?"

"Though I suppose the correct word would be 'of'…" She murmured thoughtfully, apparently not noticing that her husband was close to having a seizure.

"Cat, to—to the what? Reaction to the _what_?" The king demanded, gripping her hand very tightly in both of his.

Catherine frowned, "Tommy, don't squeeze so hard. That actually hurts."

Thomas glared sternly at her, growling through gritted teeth, "_Cat_."

"What? Oh, I'm so sorry." She grinned sheepishly. "Forgot what I was doing. Um, Thomas?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to be a father, dear."

Her husband made a noise that sounded like a mixture between a frog's croak and a sheep's bleat. It also sounded as if it had a question mark at the end of it, but Catherine was not certain for sure. So, instead of answering, she simply waited for him to regain control of his vocal functions.

Eventually, Thomas managed, "So you—you're-?"

She nodded, "Yes."

"With a—a?"

She smiled and nodded again, "Yes dear."

He stared at her helplessly, his mind trying to form a suitable response that did not resemble the cry of a petulant, half-starved kitten.

Thomas gulped back the meow threatening to leave his mouth and asked hoarsely, "After—after all this time? After what all those doctors said about us not having any children and we're—we're having one?"

His wife shrugged, "Apparently so."

"And the physician-?"

"Was very pleased to inform me about it. Oh-," Catherine started, remembering, "-and you need to give Charles a bonus."

Thomas narrowed his eyes, "Who?"

"The guard outside your door. He's very kind and he actually has eight children of-," her husband rose out of his chair and knelt on the floor in front of her, "-you should really consider raising his-," Thomas cut her off abruptly when he wrapped his arms around her.

Catherine, her head pressed right against his chest, could hear that his heart was beating rather fast. He was also shaking slightly even as he held her in this very strong embrace. And then he was saying something.

"Cat, I love you."

She could hear his chest rumbling with every word. The vibrations literally _hummed_.

"I love you so much, dear, beautiful girl."

She reached up and grasped his shirtfront, feeling as if she would quite like to start crying again.

"I love you more than life itself." He murmured tenderly. "And you know what else?"

"What?" She asked, her voice quivering.

Thomas drew back to gaze right into her face, grinning broadly, "I love the fact that you're carrying my child."

Catherine sniffed bravely, smiling, "Good, because it's mostly your fault."

The king laughed, each booming note shaking the glass in the windows behind him. He then began to kiss his wife enthusiastically, receiving a very satisfied response in return.

* * *

><p>Outside the office, the Duke of Florence crossed his arms and glared at the guard. "And just <em>why<em>, may I ask, am I not allowed to see his Majesty? I had an appointment!"

"I know, your dukeship sir. But, um, 'e's celebrating, sir." Charles replied, shifting to stand more rigidly before the door.

"Celebrating what?"

"Well, most fathers tend to go a bit overboard the first time around, sir. And 'er Majesty's in there and, well…" His face grew significantly rosy.

The Duke of Florence raised his eyebrows, "'Father'?"

"Yes sir. And a very 'appy one, I wager."

"Ah." He nodded and coughed uncomfortably, "Well, I'd better tell Andrea to start looking for a gift. Goodness knows we appreciate that bassinet the queen sent us. Um, give my regards to the king, please. We can schedule another time."

Charles grinned, "I will, sir."

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! :D<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note**: Happy Birthday! :D At least, happy birthday to me and my sister. We just celebrated our 23rd, and it was quite lovely. Anyway, just wanted to drop this off, and yes I AM working on RR and a few other stories. This just happened to be closest to finishing, so I decided to close it up this weekend. Anyhoo, hope you guys are doing well. Thank you again for reading, reviewing, and faving/following!

_Soli Deo Gloria_

**Disclaimer**: Disney owns Tangled, its characters, and its story

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><p>"It's a nice day," Thomas remarked, gazing out of the carriage window as they passed through the streets of Dean.<p>

"Mmm."

He glanced over at his wife, smiling slightly. She was not even looking out the window.

"George seems to be managing well."

Catherine nodded. "Yes, so it seems."

"Given that he's been duke for—what was it—nine years?"

"Seven," she corrected absently.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Yes—seven. I had forgotten how long."

"Hmm."

He watched her, immediately noticing the tightness of her posture and the worried tint to her eyes. She had gotten quieter and quieter ever since they had started their day trip. Now that they were in the confines of the city walls, she was barely responding to anything he said. He could guess at why his wife was acting this way, but mere guessing would not solve the problem. He had to take action.

Thomas cleared his throat loudly, asking, "Cat, what is bothering you?"

"What?"

"What is the matter?" he demanded.

She shook her head, mumbling, "Oh, nothing. I'm fine."

The king sighed, replying, "No, dear, you are not. Your shoulders are tensed and you haven't smiled since we left the capital. What's wrong?"

Catherine glanced at him, seeing the determination in his face. He would not be dissuaded. She shrugged, asking hesitantly, "Well it—it's just—doesn't it seem too soon?"

Thomas inclined his head. "It's been two weeks now. My parents know, your parents know, and everyone who works in the palace knows. I think it's time we branch out a bit."

"But—Dean? Why _Dean_?"

"It's part of the kingdom," he answered.

"I know."

"And your brother-in-law runs the duchy."

Catherine groaned. "I know that too. I just think it's—it feels too soon."

Thomas reached over and took her hand, squeezing her fingers gently. She looked at him. Outside, there were the sounds of a passing shepherd and his flock. Baas and calls mingled with the clopping hooves of the carriage horses.

"You are carrying the heir to the throne, dear. It's not nice to keep such a matter from our country's citizens."

She took a deep breath and was quiet for a moment. But then she asked, "What if it doesn't work out?"

Her husband frowned. "_Cat_."

Catherine closed her eyes, replying bravely, "No, Tommy, I want to view this realistically. What if it doesn't work out—what if something bad happens and—and we—it doesn't work?"

Thomas gazed at her, remembering the years of doctors all repeating the same sad story. Of hopeless nights and painful mornings. Of realizing that his family line had ended, because the woman he loved could not bear children. Of setting up an heir in the form of one of his father's younger cousins, that the kingdom had promise for the future, and a monarchy would still reign.

All that agonizing history, and now it was reversed and they were given a chance. Of course she would be scared—they both were. But fear was not going to be his master, and he certainly was not going to let it be hers.

Thomas bowed his head, admitting, "I don't know what is going to happen, Cat dear. I didn't even know this was possible until a few days ago. But one thing I do know and promise is that I will be with you and I will do _everything_ to keep you and our child safe. Everything. And should it come to the point when I can't do anything, remember that our trust remains in a Higher Power."

Catherine smiled, some of the tightness gone from her face. "All right."

"Good." He kissed her hand. "Now, the _real_ question is, what will your sister say?"

She smirked. "I'm not sure what Lizzie will think. I have a bad feeling she might scream the roof off, though."

"That's all right. George is rich—he can afford to get a new one."

Catherine laughed as the carriage continued its journey towards the back of the city.

* * *

><p>The carriage pulled up before the duke's mansion, and the duke himself was waiting for them at the door. George looked a little careworn. He had not had a chance to shave yet and his shirt was rumpled. He did, however, give Catherine a hug and shake her husband's hand.<p>

"Good to see you both. Although," George raised his eyebrows, "I would've liked a bit of a warning. It wasn't until you entered the city gates that we got word of your coming. Lizzie's been frantic, bossing the maids about and trying to find the children. She kept saying how awful you two are about never visiting when she wants you to and only coming when she _can't_ have you over."

Catherine asked, "Are you going to have us thrown out of the city, George?"

George grinned. "Nah, Lizzie will be fine. You two are family, after all."

"Dad—who is—? Uncle Tom!" A sandy-haired boy, his grin missing a front tooth, ran up to the door.

George looked down absently. "Ah. There you are, Chester. We were wondering where you had gotten off to."

Catherine smiled and hugged her nephew. "Hello, Chester dear."

"Hello, Aunt Katie." Chester returned the hug quickly, his eyes on his uncle. "Uncle Tom, do you want to see my castle?"

Thomas lifted an eyebrow. "Castle?"

"He's building some sort of large booby-trap in one of the upstairs hallways," George clarified.

Chester pouted. "Dad, it's a castle."

"He says it's a castle."

Catherine looked at her brother-in-law. "George, can I see my sister?"

He jerked his head to the staircase behind him. "She's up in our bedroom with the twins. Don't let her know who you are or she won't open the door."

"I think I can handle it." Catherine glanced once at her husband before starting to head upstairs.

"Dad, can I show Uncle Tom my castle?"

George shook his head firmly, responding, "Not quite yet. If I remember correctly, you were supposed to be cleaning your room today."

Chester looked up at him, pointing out, "But I wasn't going to show him my _room_. Just the castle."

His father ordered, "Go clean your room, Chester. Go on."

Thomas laughed slightly as his nephew groaned and stomped off towards the staircase. "He's gotten taller, hasn't he?"

George gave his king a rueful glance. "Yes, he has. Lizzie keeps teasing that he'll be taller than me."

"He might be," Thomas said, entering the mansion and removing his jacket to hang by the door.

"That's easy for you to say, Tom. You're already taller than pretty much every man you meet."

Thomas snorted, following him into the parlor. "That's not true. Geoffrey of Orae is at least a half a foot taller than I am."

"Have you heard from him recently? His goats are committing grand robbery compared to my wool shipments to the north."

"Yes, he gloated about that quite a bit in his last letter. But in a few months the weather will change and people will want lighter fabrics, don't you worry."

A small smile crossed George's face, and he replied, "Oh, I don't suspect I'll be the one worrying in a few months. _You_, on the other hand, might have your mind occupied with matters other than work."

Thomas frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You don't think I recognize that look? I've woken up with that same expression of terrified confusion at least four times now."

The king opened his mouth uncertainly, but was stopped by George holding out his hand. "Congratulations, Thomas. You'll make a wonderful father."

Thomas grinned and took the man's hand, shaking it warmly. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome. And now, I think you could use a cup of strong coffee." George went over to the sideboard and began to clink a few mugs together. "We can wait till Katie has told Lizzie and our ears are deafened with the yelling."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

><p>Catherine found her older sister sitting in the duke and duchess's bedroom, nursing her six-month-old daughter while the baby's twin brother slumbered in the crib.<p>

"Hello, Lizzie dear."

"Hello, Miss Surprise-your-darling-sister-into-a-heart-attack. Why didn't you tell me you were coming over?"

"It was a bit of a quick decision. How're little Anthony and Sarah?"

"Fine. Sucking the life from me, but brilliant all the same. Here, you can burp Sarah whilst I make myself decent to be seen by the queen."

Catherine smirked and took her baby niece from her sister, patting the little girl on the back. "And Brian and Kate?"

Elizabeth shrugged, buttoning up the front of her dress, "Probably wrecking Chester's castle at the moment. Or at least Brian is. I don't know where Kate got off to but wherever she is it's probably quite peaceful and accompanied by a book."

"Smart girl," Catherine commented.

"Yes she is, and almost as sweet as her aunt."

Catherine smiled, listening to the little gurgles and burps by her ear.

"So what are you two doing here anyway? At least—I assume you dragged Tommy along?"

"I didn't drag him anywhere, thank you very much."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Amazing. If I want George to go anywhere these days I have to hook him by his ankles and pull him away from his desk. He's always going on about the goats and how Orae's doing him in."

"I'm sure he can manage issues without too much trouble."

"He's probably trying to convince your husband to write a rude note to the king of Orae right now."

Catherine shrugged. "It won't work. Tommy and Geoff have been friends for far too long."

"George is family," Elizabeth said, the barest hint of defiance in her voice.

Her sister smiled understandingly. "All the more reason to say no. He knows George won't take it too hard."

"I suppose so. How about some tea?"

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Elizabeth stood up. "Let me go ask one of the maids to bring us some. And if you don't mind, could you put Sarah down with Anthony when she's ready?"

Catherine nodded and watched as Elizabeth quietly left the room. She could feel her neice's little fingers tugging at the fabric of her dress, and her eyes started watering again. They had been doing that a lot lately, and even if it was for a good reason it made things terribly difficult sometimes.

She swallowed and asked, "My dear Sarah, what would you say to a new cousin?"

Sarah yawned and buried her face in the crook of her aunt's neck. Catherine stared determinedly up at the ceiling for a moment before rising to put her neice back into her crib. Sarah started to fuss unhappily.

"Shhh, shhh. There you go." She watched as her neice settled down and began to sleep. Catherine brushed away a stray tear and went over to a nearby window. The rooftops of Dean stretched out below her, and beyond that lay the sheep-dotted fields that surrounded the city. Elizabeth's children grew with the sound of shepherds singing over the hills and the smell of wool at the shearing. _Her_ child, however, would know the crash and salt of the ocean—the beautiful stone of the palace and the delicious fragrance of its kitchens. He or she would hear the exotic accents of foreign dignitaries and run about the long palace halls with their children. And once it got dark, she would tuck her child in bed and read a story by the light of the candle.

"And it would be a good story," Catherine whispered, "long and exciting with a perfect ending."

Suddenly, she realized she could hear someone talking outside the room. Two someone's, as it turned out, and she picked out her sister's and nephew's voices instantly.

"Mum! Brian broke my castle!"

"Chester, you built in the middle of the hallway. It was bound to get broken sometime."

"But it took me weeks!"

"It took you an afternoon. Now clean it up."

"Brian made the mess."

"Darling, you both made the mess."

"But Mum—"

"'But' nothing, Chester. Your father and I have told you time and time again to clean it up and now that it's broken you have the perfect excuse."

"Brian no! He's eating the pieces—stop!"

There was the sound of a tussel, somebody falling, and then blubbering wails.

"Chester, go to your room!"

"Mum, I didn't mean—"

"Now! Oh, it's okay, Brian. I know—I _know_—your poor rump will never be the same again…"

The wails died down to whimpers, and soon Catherine heard Elizabeth scolding her second son for trying to eat a wooden block. A moment later, the door opened and Elizabeth marched in, balancing her teary-eyed toddler on her hip. Brian, denied his block, had inserted a finger into his mouth instead.

"Dear boy always has something in his mouth these days. I thought it was bad when he was teething but now it seems he just wants to eat everything."

Catherine smiled. "He's just curious about the world around him. Hello, Brian."

Her nephew removed his hand from his mouth and waved at her. He then proceeded to pat his mother's cheek.

Elizabeth laughed. "Daddy still hasn't forgiven me for the name. He seems to think it was revenge for my childhood or something."

"He's secretly delighted about it, Mother said."

"Oh, I know he is." Elizabeth bent down and placed Brian on his semi-sturdy legs. "Go play with your toys, Brian. There's a good boy."

Catherine watched as the little boy walked off to investigate the toybox in a corner of the nursery. "He's grown quite fast hasn't he?"

"And getting heavier by the day," Elizabeth said, groaning as she sat down in her chair.

"I remember one of George's brothers calling him a little cannon ball," Catherine replied.

"He's right. About as destructive as one too, sometimes. And if _Brian's_ the cannon ball, Chester's the one who's firing the cannon. Honestly Katie, there are days when these children make me want to flee the country."

"What about Kate?"

Elizabeth sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear. "She's the best behaved, but every once and a while she shows her temper."

"Can't imagine where she got that from," Catherine said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

Her sister snorted. "Yes, she's exactly like you in that. You both sulk and simmer and then release your anger hours after everyone's forgotten about whatever made you angry. That was very confusing growing up, you know."

"You managed."

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Elizabeth said.

The door opened, and a maid entered pushing a trolley. She curtsied. "The tea, ma'am and your Majesty, if you please."

Elizabeth smiled and went over to the trolley. "Thank you, Jenny. I'll pour the tea, dear, but could you take Brian up for a bath? He's a right mess."

"Of course, ma'am." The maid dropped another curtsy and went over to fetch Brian with many coos and 'young master's. Brian, who was familiar with Jenny and the candies she kept in her apron pocket, followed her happily out of the room.

"He loves her," Elizabeth said, plopping spoons of sugar into the tea. "Those blessed girls keep me sane—it's brilliant how much they help with the kids."

"Lizzie, the way you talk about your children makes me think you don't get enough time away from them," Catherine observed.

"Oh Katie," Elizabeth turned around, giving her a cup of tea, "you've no idea! Last night, I found that Chester had decided to use his penknife to carve up his washing soap. And then Brian, when he's not trying to eat everything, pulls tablecloths and curtains and all manner of drapery to the floor. The twins are always hungry, Anthony just got over an earache, and Kate keeps asking George to buy her more books. Sometimes I can't even think straight—and last but not least, they ruin your figure!"

The queen rolled her eyes. "You look fine."

"That's what George says, but what does he know about a fine-cut woman?"

"He married you," Catherine pointed out, feeling her sister had started to get a trifle dramatic, per usual.

"Yes, yes, I know he did a good job then but _now_. I mean, seriously Katie, I've got curves I never had before children." Elizabeth stood up and went over to frown at her reflection in the mirror, examining her backside. "And most of this came from the last batch."

"At least you had the twins at the end."

"No kidding—I'd not have had any more if I had twins to start with," Elizabeth declared, still rubbing one of her hips and pouting at the mirror.

"Lizzie, will you stop looking at your rear like that? It's very off-putting."

Elizabeth turned around, folding her arms. "I'll tell you what's off-putting, Katie. The fact that you were married just after I was and between me, Frieta, Mary, and Emma you've still got the best figure."

"What? Do you all get together and talk about me while I'm not around?" Catherine asked, amused.

Her sister nodded, coming back to take her chair. "Yes, we have secret meetings where we all gossip and condemn you for your flawless body."

Catherine's eyes narrowed, and Elizabeth burst out laughing.

"No, dear, I'm joking—we don't do anything of the sort. It's just an agreement we all have. You're bound to be the prettiest of us all when we're old and grey. Tommy's a lucky man—he can still show you off when company comes over in twenty years or so."

"He doesn't show me off."

"Yes, but he _could_. George says he'll show me off no matter what I look like, but he's never been very good at that sort of thing. And that's another—" Elizabeth broke off, suddenly noticing the look on her sister's face. "Wait, I'm complaining again, aren't I? And here you are, just listening while I tell you all my problems and everything. Dear Katie," she reached over and took Catherine's hand, "how are you?"

"Good. In fact, I—I'm doing quite well." She started to get nervous. It would be like telling Thomas all over again.

"Okay. And? What else? You couldn't have possibly come all this way to be graced by my presence."

Catherine let out a short laugh, inclining her head. "As much as I love you, Lizzie, no. I have some news."

"Royal or personal?" Elizabeth asked.

"Personal, and royal."

"Isn't it always?"

"No, not always. The thing is, Lizzie—"

"Yes?"

"—you're going to be an aunt again."

Elizabeth stared at her, blinked twice, and then released her hand and let out a loud moan, leaning back in her chair. "_Again_? Who is it this time? Is it Frieta? Because I told her if she had one more kid I'd absolutely refuse to babysit any more! They're a bunch of little—"

"No, dear, it's not Frieta."

"Mary? Oh, Mary, _why_ did you—"

"It's not her, either."

"Don't tell me Emma's gone and had another one? She's just had her first—she never could have—possibly…" Elizabeth faltered, staring at her sister.

Catherine smiled slightly, setting aside her cup of tea.

Elizabeth opened her mouth, whispering, "Katie?"

"Yes, dear."

"KATIE!" Elizabeth let out a shriek that could be heard down in the city of Dean. She raced over to her sister, pulling her into a hug so fierce Catherine feared her ribs would break.

"Katie, oh, Katie—this is wonderful! This is so exciting! I'm so happy for you! I can't believe—even after what those idiot doctors said—you did it! You're going to be a mommy! Not just any, by the way. You will be the best mother the world could possibly ever have! I'm so happy for you! Oh, dear baby sister, you will love it! Being a mother is the absolute best thing in the world next to being a wife! Though you really can't compare the two—but who cares! Oh, Katie! How long? When did you find out? Does Tommy know?"

"Of course he knows," Catherine said, laughing too much to cry.

"And?"

"And he's very happy."

Elizabeth nodded smartly. "Should be. If he wasn't, I'd tell him a few things, and I've lived with George for nearly seven years and I know some words that would make his beard fall out."

"Please don't do that—I like his beard."

Her sister rolled her eyes. "I know, and I don't understand it. Just the idea makes me—ewh… so scratchy."

"It's not scratchy," Catherine said, making room as Elizabeth had decided to share her chair.

"Dear, I've kissed an unshaven man before and trust me, that was the last time I let George pack his shaving kit. I do it myself now and I try to include at least three spare blades. But forget George—Katie, you are going to have a _baby_! A real baby! Oh, this is marvelous! Wait—George—I've got to tell him! We need to go shopping!"

"You don't need to go shopping."

"Yes we do. And we'll buy him—or her, oh beautiful whoever it is—the best basinet! Or maybe something else—a rattle perhaps? Oh, who cares, my sister's going to be a mother and I'm going to be an aunt _again_!"

* * *

><p>Both gentlemen looked up at the ceiling.<p>

"I'd say from the noise that she's told her already," Thomas remarked.

"No, no, that's Lizzie's normal talking voice. Just—wait." George held up a finger. A second later, there was an explosion of shrieks and squeals. "Now she's told her."

Thomas grinned and took another gulp of coffee. The reality of it had finally started to sink in. Certainly, there had been some of that when they had told his parents and hers, but it was different now. Perhaps it was because they were with Elizabeth and George and their young children. Perhaps it was because he had a glimpse of what the future could be like, with children running about, building castles in hallways and reading in windows.

He glanced over at Kate, who had so far not noticed his existence. She was curled up on a window seat, reading a book several sizes beyond the reading range of her peers. He was inclined to believe his wife would have looked exactly like that at Kate's age. There was a possibility that their daughter—if they had a daughter—would appear the same. It was a nice thought, and warmth seemed to fill his chest.

"Thomas," George said.

"Yes?"

"I can hear my wife running downstairs. You might want to stand up or she'll knock the chair over."

Thomas glanced at his duke, decided he wasn't joking, and got to his feet. Not a minute later, his sister-in-law and wife entered the room.

"George, you wouldn't believe—Tommy! Oh, Tommy you marvelous man!"

Elizabeth hurried over and threw her arms around her slightly stunned brother-in-law, hugging him almost as tightly as she had hugged her sister. "I _knew_ you both could do it! I absolutely knew!"

"Thank you, Lizzie." Thomas looked over to his smiling wife, wincing. "Not quite so tight."

"Lizzie, you're hurting my husband."

"I don't care! I'm just so happy for you both! For you three—oh, glorious day—for you _three_!" Elizabeth released Thomas and went over to hug her husband. "George, you won't believe what's happened. It's just so wonderful!"

"Mama?" Kate had finally looked up from her book. Her eyes suddenly brightened. "Aunt Katie? I didn't know you where here!"

"Hello, dear girl," Catherine said, holding open her arms as her niece came over for a hug. "How are you?"

"Great. But why is Mama crying?"

"She's very happy," Catherine replied, catching sight of her sister's beaming face.

"Oh, go on and tell her, Katie. And George, where's your purse? We need to go shopping!"

George sighed, reaching into his vest pocket for a pad of paper. "I wondered when that question would come about. All right, dear, how much are we going to spend this time?"

"What's Mama talking about?" Kate asked, looking up at her aunt.

Catherine smiled, even as Thomas came over to put an arm around her shoulders. "Well, Kate, we have some news…"


End file.
